For a Rainy Day
by Crinklybrownleaves
Summary: Set in Adelaide between S3 and 4, but not quite the usual 'what happened in Adelaide' story, I think.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is coming along only very slowly, so don't expect frequent updates. It's set in Adelaide, between S3 and S4, but is a bit different to the usual 'what happened in Adelaide', I think. As ever, I'd be grateful for your thoughts on it.**

So Richard had been right, when he had told her Adelaide was hot. Certainly it was a lot warmer than Ballarat, Jean thought, as she and Lucien strolled through the park.

Neither of them wanted to hurry; they had had precious little time together in the last few days, as Jean had been busy helping with the baby. She had hoped they would have had more opportunities to see each other, away from their lodgers and patients, but it hadn't really happened yet.

By silent agreement they turned down a side path and sat on a bench in the shade. Lucien took his jacket off and laid it over the back of the seat, and then took Jean's hand in his. He rested both their hands on his leg.

She was comfortable enough with this now, but he didn't want to rush her. Sometimes when he caught her eye she still had a trace of that uncertainty, even fear, that he had seen when he got on to the bus. He knew how easy it would be to lose her by asking for more than she was willing to risk giving him just yet.

Jean meanwhile was wondering if anything would be resolved before he had to return to Ballarat. He had put his arm around her, and kissed her cheek a couple of times, but they hadn't talked about why he came with her to Adelaide, or what might happen if she went home with him again.

She had only herself to blame, she thought. She had said 'not yet', but hadn't thought that might mean 'not ever'. She sighed. Talking was not their strong point, and never had been.

The heat was becoming more oppressive still, and Jean could feel her hair damp against her neck. She rested her head on Lucien's shoulder and felt the muscles in his arm shift, as he moved slightly to find a comfortable position. She felt a pang of guilt at how much she wanted to touch his arm properly, with her fingers, and without his shirt in between them.

Lucien tried not to move. She was closer to him now than she had been for days, and he didn't want that to end.

Very faintly, Lucien thought he heard thunder. The first time he said nothing, thinking perhaps he was mistaken, but a minute or two later there was a much louder crack, and a breeze cooled them for a moment.

"We should go," he said, and as they gathered up their belongings, there came the unmistakeable sound of rain falling, and not far away.

"My hotel is closer than Christopher's house," he added. "Come on, or we'll get soaked."

They walked briskly towards the hotel, but the storm was moving much faster, and before long fat raindrops were splattering on the road, sending up their distinctive smell. As the rain became torrential, he pulled Jean closer and held his jacket curved over their heads, in an attempt to keep the worst of the rain off.

Jean had to skip along next to him to keep up, but the sound of the approaching thunder kept her from slowing down. There was no obvious shelter around, and it was far too dangerous to stand under a tree. The sky had darkened and, combined with the rain, it was hard to see through the gloom.

As the first flash of lightning shot across the sky, they broke into a run, and they arrived at the door to the hotel breathless and drenched. For a moment Jean held him back.

"I can't just come in with you,' she said. "What will the staff think?"

Lucien was exasperated. "You're soaked, and so am I. No one will think anything, except that we want to get out of the rain."

He took her hand firmly and pulled her inside, still protesting. They were both thoroughly wet, with clothes clinging to them uncomfortably.

The manager raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise. He hadn't known Dr Blake's wife was in town. The doctor had been staying alone for the last week, and there had been no sign of anyone visiting him.

But surely she must be his wife? As a hotel manager, he prided himself that he could spot the customers who were having affairs, and these two didn't have that look about them. They had arrived bickering, in that way married people tend to, to reassure themselves they might still have separate opinions. And she was wearing a wedding ring. He made up his mind.

"Doctor Blake, Mrs Blake," he nodded to them. "Can I get you anything? Some towels, perhaps, or some tea...?" He tried not to wince as they dripped on his carpet.

The doctor glared at him for a moment, and appeared to be about to contradict him, but the woman coughed sharply and he subsided again.

"That would be lovely," she said, and steered the doctor towards the stairs. Lucien closed his mouth and went with her quietly.

Yes, married, thought the manager, definitely.

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	2. Chapter 2

**In which Lucien wears a towel and the kettle doesn't catch fire ;)**

Jean sat on the small couch in Lucien's bedroom, her knees drawn up under her chin. She hugged her legs in an attempt to warm up, and wriggled her toes to get the blood moving. Lucien watched her out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to be too obvious in his appraisal.

Frankly, he thought she looked beautiful; her hair curled in damp tendrils round her face, and there was something rather appealing about seeing her in his pyjamas. The trouser legs were rolled up, as were the sleeves - the whole outfit swamped her, but he had very few dry clothes to spare.

He glanced down at his own clothes; yesterday's shirt and a towel round his waist. He should have bought more clothes than just the basics when he arrived in the city, but it was too late to regret that now. Rubbing his hair with a towel, he came and sat next to Jean on the sofa, but not touching her.

Now it was Jean's turn to eye him surreptitiously; she loved the way his hair was curling and standing up, quite different to the very neat way he usually had it. Rather attractive, if she were honest with herself. And the towel round his waist seemed very flimsy compared with the usual armour of his suit.

That suit, and Jean's dress and stockings, were draped over the radiator, steaming gently. From the hot, humid weather of earlier, the change was dramatic. The room was chilly, the radiator was warming them only slowly, and Jean was distinctly cold.

She let her eyes run down his legs. She had never seen his bare legs before, which was surprising perhaps when they had lived together for so long. She became more and more interested in them; she had not really realised quite how fit he was. The muscles in his calves were truly impressive.

She slowly moved her gaze back to his face, to find an amused smile waiting for her. She blushed furiously. He had obviously guessed just what she was thinking.

Jean stood up hastily, holding the waist of the pyjama trousers so they didn't fall down, and cast about her for a distraction. With relief she spotted the teapot and for some minutes she fiddled with the cups and tea strainer, letting the redness in her face subside.

When she sat back down and handed Lucien his tea, he drank it without comment. Then he set down the cup and put his arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head, and breathing in the scent of her wet hair.

Jean leaned against him gratefully. She was still cold and it was much more cosy snuggled up to him than sitting politely apart. She supposed this was alright. After all, there was something happening between them, even if she wasn't really sure just what it was. And this was no closer than they had been on the bus, was it? Except for fewer clothes, maybe, she conceded to herself.

"Jean, I'm sorry I let you down," he murmured against her hairline. His breath felt intimate against her skin, and she shivered. Lucien pulled her a bit closer for warmth.

"What do you mean?" she asked in reply. "You couldn't help us getting caught in the rain." She looked puzzled.

"No, I meant in Ballarat, when I didn't tell you how much I wanted you to stay. Jean, I can't imagine living there without you, but I didn't know how to tell you." He looked at her with love, but also a little fear. What if she wouldn't come back with him?

"I can't go on just being your housekeeper, Lucien." She was finding the sandy coloured curls that were tickling her face rather distracting. And the faint smell of his sweat on the shirt was making her stomach ache strangely.

"It's not enough for me either," he said. "I'd like you to be far more than that, if that's what you want too." He tried to sound reassuring, but Jean knew him too well; this was making him nervous too.

He glanced down and caught a glimpse of bare skin on her chest, where his pyjama jacket stood away from her. Her breasts were in shadow, but so close. The tug in his gut made him bolder. "Jean, I want to show you how much I care about you. Will you come home with me?"

She looked rather sad. "I can't just come home, Lucien. I promised Christopher I would stay here. I have to at least help Ruby get back on her feet." Seeing the stricken look on his face, she continued, more gently. "But then, I will come home, if you want me to. It might not be a good idea though, Lucien. I work for you, and people will think you shouldn't be bothering with someone like me."

He opened his mouth to object. How could Jean not be good enough for him? If only people knew her like he did. "Jean..." he began, but then decided he would kiss her first. He kissed her cheek first, then her lips very gently, holding her face in his hand.

The smile she gave him lit up the room, and she looked into his eyes for a long moment. Still grinning, she leaned in and kissed him back, putting her hand on the back of his neck and stroking his wayward curls.

"Jean, you are worth a hundred of me. No one could ever think badly of you - I wouldn't let them." He thought for a moment about the risk she was taking with her job, her home and her reputation. "I won't let you down, I promise."

She began to see how serious he was about this, and she felt both amazed and a little bit scared.

She gave him a small smile and nodded. "A few months here and the baby should be settled. I should be home again by the autumn."


	3. Chapter 3

Lucien took the blanket from the bed and turned back to Jean, attempting to smile at her. He had been more shocked than he wanted her to know at the idea of her staying in Adelaide so long. He had hoped it might just be for a couple of weeks. How was he going to manage without her?

Fetching the blanket had given him a moment to recover, and he now settled back against her side, wrapping it around their shoulders and folding the ends across their laps.

"I'm sure Mrs Toohey will look after you perfectly well, Lucien," Jean said firmly.

"That's not why I need you, Jean." he replied. "It's you I want, not your cooking." He looked so crestfallen that she took pity on him.

"I want you too," she said quietly. She looked him in the eye as boldly as she could, and hoped he would understand.

"So...you'll come home, but not yet. Is that right?" Perhaps that was the best he could hope for. She nodded silently.

Lucien held her hand and closed his eyes for a moment. She had said she wanted him. That was all that really mattered. Everything else could be sorted out in time. A smile crept across his face, and Jean watched him, wondering what he was thinking, glad that he looked happier again..

She ran the fingertips of her free hand up Lucien's arm, feeling the muscle over his forearm and the soft, surprisingly smooth skin underneath. When her hand met the rolled up sleeve she continued to move up his arm, but now over his clothes, until she reached his shoulder. Then she rested her head on the space below his collarbone, and nosed at the cotton of his shirt. Lucien was grinning now, pulling her towards him, wanted the same skin contact with her that she had sought with him.

"Come on," he whispered, and patted the space on his lap. Jean looked at the towel round his waist, and wondered if he was wearing anything underneath it. After a moment's hesitation, she half stood and shifted into his lap, drawing her legs up under the blanket and curling against his chest.

Lucien could hardly believe it. He had thought she would draw the line at sitting on his lap, but here she was, leaning against his chest and placing tiny kisses on his beard. Slowly, he moved his hands over her legs and waist, settling in the end with one hand firmly on her hip, while the other stroked her cheek and down her neck.

He could smell her clean scent in the cocoon they had made of the blankets, and he thought about wearing those pyjamas himself later and so taking a little of her with him to bed. The thought made him hold her a little tighter, which earned him a soft kiss on the lips.

One kiss led to another, until Lucien slid his hand inside his pyjama jacket, wanting to feel her bare skin under his fingertips. Jean gripped his hand and backed away a little, setting his hand back on her side, but over her clothes. He stifled a sigh, and kissed her on the forehead.

She lay back against his chest, and eventually broke the easy silence.

"I should go home. Christopher and Ruby will wonder where I am." She didn't sound as though she wanted to go.

"Stay," he replied. "Stay here with me." He looked at her hopefully. Jean smiled at him, assuming he was joking, but that look quickly told her he wasn't.

"Lucien...I can't stay here. What would people think? They..." She trailed off. It was unthinkable. Yet she was thinking it.

"You could ring Christopher to let him know you are safe. And the hotel manager thinks we are married, so that doesn't matter." Lucien was at his most persuasive.

"But we're not married, Lucien."

"Not yet. I intend to put that right before too long, though." Lucien thought Jean looked a little alarmed at that. Perhaps it was rather too soon to mention it. "I'm not suggesting anything you would think was wrong, Jean. I'd like you to stay with me, here, in my room, and maybe in my bed, but I won't do anymore than kiss you and hold you, and we can eat dinner together and talk. I have to go back to Ballarat in a day or two, and then I won't see you for weeks or even months. Please, Jean."

Jean swallowed nervously. She trusted him; she knew he wouldn't do anything she wasn't happy with. So why was she worried?

She stroked his hand, and looked away as she spoke.

"I'd like to stay, Lucien," she said quietly, "but what should I say to Christopher? It goes against everything I've ever taught him."

"He's a grown man now, Jean, and you can do whatever you choose."

Jean bit at her lower lip with her teeth, thinking about this and making up her mind. Then she walked over to the phone beside the bed, and dialled her son's number before she could change her mind.

Perhaps fortunately, Ruby answered the phone. Lucien tried not to listen too closely to Jean's side of the conversation.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, Ruby...I'm with Lucien, and I'll be home tomorrow sometime." There was a pause, and Jean smiled to herself wryly. Then she said goodbye and hung up. There was a pause before she turned back to Lucien, and he thought she looked a little pink.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I think I embarrassed Ruby a bit. She didn't know what to say!"

Lucien could hardly believe it. He had a whole evening and night now with his Jean. No lodgers, no family, no phone ringing.

Perhaps they should eat first, and he could do with a drink. "Do you want to go downstairs for dinner, or shall we eat here?" Their clothes would still be damp, but just about wearable perhaps. Jean shook her head.

"Let's eat here. Some sandwiches would be fine. I'm not very hungry anyway." She thought the hollow feeling in her stomach was more likely to be nerves than hunger.

So Lucien phoned the hotel reception and a few minutes later answered the knock at the door, still dressed in his shirt and towel, and brought in a plate of sandwiches, some whisky, and two glasses.


	4. Chapter 4

**This last chapter is my Christmas present to you all. I'm sorry it's only fiction! I hope you enjoy it. I also hope this chapter answers the Adelaide question in a slightly different way, by offering an explanation for Lucien's dreamy behaviour in 4.1. Thanks for all the reviews and comments, I really appreciate them.**

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At some point after her third glass of whisky, Jean nodded off on his shoulder. He was hardly surprised; she rarely drank whisky, and he suspected it had been about keeping up her courage.

Lucien knew he had rushed her into this, but he couldn't honestly regret it. Just a week ago he had stepped on to that bus, and now he was about to spend the night with her. A less welcome thought was that he needed to go home to Ballarat soon, and he resolved to remember every detail of this amazing day, to keep him going in the coming months apart.

He kissed the soft hair over her forehead and caressed her shoulder gently. He had learned more about Jean this evening than in years of living together, but that had been his own fault. Until a few hours ago, he had never asked about her family, what her parents were like, and he hadn't even known that Danny was Christopher's nephew rather than hers.

And she had coaxed out of him a little more about his life before the war. There were things about his past he could never tell her. His life in intelligence meant she would never know why he had really been in Germany before the war, or that he had killed two men. But she deserved more from him than silence and a change of subject, so he did his best to share a little.

As they talked, Lucien ran his fingers through Jean's hair, lifting up her curls and peppering little kisses on the back of her neck. In turn she stroked his chest and arms through his clothes, and kissed the patch of his chest that was revealed by the open neck shirt.

For years her body had felt safe; quiet, strong, reliable. She had dressed modestly and carefully, disciplining herself not to expect attention or affection. But now her body was betraying her, moving and acting independently of her thoughts.

Jean felt as if she were casting off years of loneliness, as she let herself trust him. She had wanted to kiss him for months, but had never quite been ready. Whether it was the circumstances, or the whisky, or just that the time was now right, her nerves had vanished.

As the evening drew on, they hadn't turned on the lights, and eventually they were sitting together in semi darkness. Jean drifted off to sleep, and after a few minutes Lucien decided bed was the best place for her. She half woke as he lifted her from the couch and carried her over to the bed, but apart from murmuring something he couldn't make out, she didn't come round fully.

He settled her under the covers, still wrapped in the blanket they had shared. He conceded to himself that the blanket was a good thing; he was going to sleep right next to her wearing only underpants and a shirt, and he didn't want her to think badly of him if she woke in the night and found they were barely dressed.

Lucien lay wide awake next to her for a long time. He rarely slept well, and Jean was a considerable distraction. On the one hand, they lived so closely together that this felt entirely right and natural, but on the other hand, until today they had done little more than hold hands.

He wanted to lie close against her back, but settled for a few inches away. He was a little worried that Jean might wake to find his body was being less gentlemanly than his mind was trying to be.

He slept eventually, and was snoring gently when Jean awoke in the night, far too warm and rather disorientated. For a moment she couldn't remember where she was, and even then she was puzzled by the blanket. Turning over she smiled to find Lucien close beside her. It was rare to see him so still, or so relaxed.

Disentangling herself from the blanket, Jean took stock of the situation. She was in bed with the man she loved, wearing his clothes, and she couldn't remember how she had got there.

Surprisingly perhaps, she wasn't too worried about that. She knew she was safe with him.

In near darkness, she studied his face as he slept. She so rarely had the opportunity to just watch him. She could hardly stare at him over the dinner table at home, so her looks at him had been snatched glances and sideways peeks when she hoped he wasn't looking.

She loved his rather dishevelled look, his hair curling where it wasn't supposed to, and his shirt open enough for a glimpse of his chest. Jean smiled and shifted a little closer, resting her forehead on his shoulder and touching his leg with her toes. She wanted to store up some memories for the long weeks and months ahead. Soon she slept again, but this time close against him.

Lucien woke first as dawn broke, and lay still before he opened his eyes, remembering. He could smell Jean's subtle scent, and he could feel her hair tickling his shoulder. What pleased him most, however, was the weight of her arm flung across him as she slept.

He resolved to let her sleep on, but she woke naturally just a few minutes later. Lucien watched her as awareness returned and was delighted that she looked happy rather than horrified to find herself right next to him.

He greeted her with a kiss on the lips, just gently, and then he slipped an arm under her and pulled her in for a hug. Gradually they woke fully and Jean's thoughts turned to home.

"Are we going to tell anyone about this?" she asked.

"Probably not about how we spent last night, but I think Charlie and Mattie may guess we're courting fairly quickly." He smiled cheekily at her and kissed her cheek.

She liked the way he said courting. It might be a bit old fashioned, but then they usually were in matters like this. Last night was an exception, and one she would not talk about, even with Mattie.

"We can't do this at home, Lucien," she warned him.

He touched her cheek lightly. "Not yet, at any rate," he admitted, "which is why I'm going to keep you here as long as possible."

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The sun was hot by the time they set out for Christopher's house. They had skipped breakfast, and had dressed somewhat awkwardly in their now dried clothing from yesterday. The manager greeted them cheerfully, and it only occurred to him later that Mrs Blake seemed to have no luggage at all. Perhaps, like her husband, she travelled light.

Lucien insisted on coming to the door with Jean. It would have been somehow cowardly to keep her out all night and then avoid her family, he thought.

Ruby opened the door and gestured silently to them both to come in. Christopher was already at work. The women prepared some breakfast and some tea, and then Ruby went off to see to the baby. Jean smiled at Lucien a little nervously.

"I don't know what she's thinking. She seemed shocked yesterday."

"Perhaps she's got used to the idea, Jean," he replied. He was holding her hand again, under the table.

Once the meal was eaten, he knew he should go. He was catching the bus home the next morning, so they had to say goodbye. He kept it brief - a swift kiss on the lips, and a promise to phone often.

Jean put her hand on the side of his face and stroked his beard with her thumb, then pulled away and said goodbye. There was no point in prolonging it.

"I'll ring tomorrow when you're home." She smiled encouragingly at him.

As he walked slowly back to the hotel, his thoughts were a mixture of loving memories and hopes for the future; for the next few weeks he would have to make do with those.

Or so he thought.


End file.
